


The Inexhaustible Variety of Life

by rinnwrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Broadway AU, M/M, The Great Gatsby References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 02:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: Tony Stark and Pepper Potts are American theatre royalty. Their success as a producer/director duo is unmatched, especially when paired with the creative genius of Bucky Barnes. The three of them have proven an unstoppable force, but a messy falling out between Bucky and Tony has kept them from collaborating again. When Bucky needs the perfect team to bring his rendition of The Great Gatsby to life, he tries to set aside old drama to recreate the magic, but it might take Broadway newcomer Steve Rogers to step into the lead role and bring them together again.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a fun and wild ride, it is very indulgent and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope that you will enjoy it as well! 
> 
> Forgive me for any mistakes, as I have not had a beta read over the work - it has so far been seen only by the brilliant Hazein, whose lovely accompanying artwork can be found here!! 
> 
> Thanks so much to the WIS Bang mod(s) for their unending patience with me in this process, and for setting all of this up in the first place!!

Everyone knew Pepper Potts. Well, they knew _of_ her, at least. While she’d never stepped foot on a stage, recited a line, or sung a note, Pepper Potts was one of the biggest names on Broadway, because Pepper was the mastermind behind the success of Tony Stark.

That wasn’t to say that Tony didn’t bring a lot to the table, he did. Tony brought _magic_ to the table. He brought life to the theatre, he sculpted notes and words on a page, sets and props and costumes and aimless people into _art_. Tony was the genius behind the success of Pepper Potts.

There was a time, before they met, when both of them floundered. Pepper worked with nonprofits, and she was pretty good at it, schmoozing, wheeling, dealing, and sucking people dry of donations, ‘ _all for a good cause._ ’ But she’d wanted more, something bigger, brighter, shinier. Not to say she didn’t think her causes were worthy, but she was tired of the humdrum.

Tony had the money. He was born with the money, and the _talent_ . He was good at bossing people around, making decisions, _directing,_ and his taste was unmatched, his choices flawless _._ But the politics had thrown him, and as many musicals as he tried to pick up, as much money as he poured into them, his plans would always come tumbling down. All it took was one argument with one critic, one misunderstanding with a theatre owner and his hard work would crumble.

He’d known right away that she was the solution when he first saw Pepper in action. It was a gala to support the arts in New York City schools, and she was running the show. Tony watched her from across the room, saw her delicately handle each and every person, and managed to catch the dark clouds that crossed her face when something went wrong with the catering and no one else was watching - until she fixed even that.

The event wasn’t even over before he’d made his proposition. He’d provide the funds, office space, and the bulk of the investments….if she would just deal with the people. Pepper hadn’t known anything about theatre at the time, but the offer was too good to refuse and within an hour of meeting, Tony Stark and Pepper Potts had started a partnership - and never looked back.

Today, they were the most successful production duo in the city. Half of the musicals still running on Broadway were shaped by their hands, and they had a case full of Tony awards to prove it.

Which was the entire reason that James Buchanan Barnes found himself standing in their lobby, waiting for Pepper to see him.

He eyed the case thoughtfully, thinking back to his two in their meager display beside the piano in this Brooklyn apartment. They were very much _his_ awards, but the first and only he’d won, and both from a show directed by Stark and produced by Potts. If the two of them were the dream team, throwing Bucky’s work into the mix was beyond imagination.

There wasn’t a day Bucky could remember when his brain wasn’t overflowing with notes and melodies and _poetry_ \- this was the way he’d found to channel it, and he was good, very good. One of the few artistic minds that could single-handedly compose an entire show from start to finish, Bucky was made for this world, Tony and Pepper’s expertise and resources just lifted him to new heights.

After the raging success that was their last show, “ _Life After You”_ , he was constantly asked two questions: When would the trio collaborate on a new show, and What would it take to lure him away from them?

The theatre world knew that anything they touched together would turn to gold, the product of their partnership was renowned, but the lesser known product of their show was the awkward and uncomfortable tension left after the flame-out between Bucky and Tony just before that year’s Tony Awards.

Bucky should have known better, he really should have. It was never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. He’d seen show relationships come and go, bang and sizzle, a flash in the pan - often predicting the future of those artists’ careers. He’d long ago vowed to himself not to be that person, not to risk his art that way...but Tony Stark was intoxicating. There was a fire there that just _begged_ to be played with, and Bucky had been unable to resist the game.

It started off fun and easy, they met when Tony and Pepper picked up Bucky’s last script through some horribly confusing six degrees of separation. The work had been good, a diamond in the rough, and Tony had this way of seeing the facets unlike anyone else. Bucky had never felt such an intense initial attraction, not just to the way Tony looked, but to the way his creative mind worked, to the way it felt like they shared a grand vision of his show after only minutes of conversation.

They’d caught on like a house on fire, flirting through the casting process, getting handsy during workshop breaks…..and finally sleeping together just as their show hit previews.

The passion worked in their favor for a while as the production took shape. Bucky tweaked and perfected his songs, the music, the lyrics, the dialogue, and Tony took those words and melodies and pulled performances from the cast that were worthy of the greatest awe, inspiring Bucky to work even harder to make it _everything_. They went in a circle, pushing each other to be better, to make their work better - and then the pushing got to be too much.

The fighting started in the last technical rehearsal before their big Broadway open - their first big disagreement over something trivial (it _wasn’t_ trivial, not really. Bucky maintained his opinion to this day that the opening number had been perfect without any changes, but Tony wanted to upscale the whole song at the last minute.)

That argument had been the first hole poked in the status quo, and the first time they stopped to acknowledge that the other was anything but faultless, or to wonder if the passion and feelings they shared were for the _art_ or for each other.

Seeds of doubt were sewn and a precedent was set. It grew like weeds between them, though they tried to hold onto whatever it was that they had, nonetheless. They’d snap and argue by day, each fighting to tweak the show to their vision of perfection, then release all of that conflict by night.

And the nights….the nights were worth the strife...for a while. At night, Bucky felt that _fire_ that had drawn him to Tony in the first place. They put aside their arguments, and fell into one another, working out their stress through what was honestly the best sex that Bucky ever had, but the pillow talk stopped.

Actually, the talking stopped all together.

Eventually they only really spoke at work, about work.

They only worked, and argued, and found that they could barely agree on anything as they went into the show’s regular run, and award nomination season.

It came to a head at their nomination party. The entire cast and crew brought together for a lavish celebration of the slew of Tony awards they were officially being considered for.

Oddly enough, Bucky _couldn’t_ remember what they’d fought about that night...only that it had been the last straw, the end.

He remembered being _angry_ , and white hot with it as he stormed out of what was, in a way, his own party. They’d parted that night knowing that there wouldn’t be anymore fixing it, or ignoring it. They’d fallen prey to the phenomenon that Bucky had been so desperate to avoid, they got wrapped up in the show, and each other, and burned so hot that they didn’t stand a chance in the cold light of day, when they were _people_ instead of artists, when they looked at real life instead of the fantasy world they’d created together as they built _“Life After You.”_

Sometimes Bucky still ached with the loss of that perfect bubble of passion. Times like now, as his gaze lingered over a photograph of Tony and Pepper holding the first award they’d won together.

“Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Pepper’s assistant until the girl tapped him on on the shoulder.

“Mr. Barnes, Ms. Potts is ready for you.”

He blinked and nodded, managing a grateful smile as he turned to enter the all-too-familiar office where Pepper sat behind a sleek glass topped desk, tucking a stack of papers into a file.

“Bucky, hi. I’m a little surprised to see you, but pleasantly so.” She smiled up at him, gesturing to the set of armchairs across from her desk.

“It’s nice to see you too, Pepper. Been a while.” He settled in one of the chairs, feeling nervous despite the confidence he had in his reason for visiting.

“What can I do for you today, Bucky?”

Straight to the chase. Certainly she was wondering what he was doing here, and he wouldn’t beat around the bush about it either.

“I have a show for you. You and Tony. And I know what you’re gonna say, I remember last time, but Pepper. This show is great, it’s the best work I’ve ever done, and it could be incredible. It could be big and flashy and grand, and I can’t take it to anyone else, because no one else could do it justice, no one but you. No one but him. It has to be him.”

He got it all out in one breath, watching Pepper’s face as he spoke. Her expression remained dubious, but not unkind.

“I’m sure the show is great, Bucky, but do you really think it’s a good idea, you two working together again?” her tone was level, the curiosity in her voice genuine.

“No, but the world needs to see this show. If you just read it, you’ll understand. Read the script and listen to the demos.”

“And when do you intend to meet with Tony about it?”

Bucky grimaced.

“I was hoping…” he faltered, “Well, I hoped that you’d read it and then get him on board.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, groaning softly, “I swear, you’re as bad as he is. Why am I the only adult in this business?”

He gave her his best abashed smile and shrugged. “Beats me, but…you’ll do it?”

She sighed. “I’ll read the script, and then we’ll see.”

“And the demos?”

“And the demos.”

Bucky beamed, “You’ll be glad you did. I promise.”

“Right. What’s this show even about?”

His eyes lit up and he pulled a manilla envelope from his bag, the script and demos packaged safely inside, and set it on her desk so she could read the title.

_The Great Gatsby._

 

*****

“I love it, Pep. Good eye.” Tony said matter-of-factly, tossing the binder-clipped script down on her desk as he let himself into her office. “Where’d you find it? I want to talk to the writer, see if they have any demos we can hear, because it’s good as just a play, but it’ll be great if the music lands as well as the book. And, well, it could be incredible if I direct it.” he grinned, settling into an armchair and leaning back. “I mean, it could be grand, the right Gatsby, every bit of 20s glitz we can pile onto the stage, the party numbers? I can see it now - this has got to be our next project. I haven’t even heard the demos and I’m already itching to choreograph it.” he rambled on, gazing in Pepper’s direction but past her.

She knew he was seeing something else entirely, a fully formed masterpiece in his head, one that, given the opportunity, he could bring to fruition like no one else. If she could get him to move forward once he learned the show’s source.

“I have the demos, all of them.” Pepper said plainly.

“What?! And you didn’t give them to me with the book? How am I supposed to get the whole effect if you’re holding out on me?” His tone was half incredulous and half teasing, but he edged forward in his chair and made insistent grabby hands at her, “Hand ‘em over!”

Pepper smiled that little smile that said she had a secret, and anyone who didn’t know her as well as Tony did would miss the flicker of nervousness in her eyes. “Why don’t I just play them for you now and we can discuss.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “...okay. Hit it.”

Pepper turned away from him to where the CD of demos that Bucky had given her was already cued up in a player and pressed the play button on the first track.

Soft piano trills filled the room, growing faster and fuller as the overture progressed, and Tony nodded along to it, eyes closed as he blocked out everything but the music, absently tapping his foot to the jazzy tune as it swelled and subsided. It was a beautiful intro with a few catchy melodies that would certainly appear later in the show if the composer was wise.

A beat of silence, and then two, and another song began, this one softer and more somber than the last, a few low and evocative chords that gave way to a voice, one that must be the story’s narrator, Nick Carraway, reflecting on the time he knew Gatsby, setting up the lavish yet morbid tale that would follow, but the voice sent a thrill through Tony for a entirely different reason.

Bucky.

He’d know the gravely baritone anywhere, rough but somehow sweet, and wounded in a way that tore at the scars on Tony’s soul.

Tony sat, looking again at Pepper, but through her, as the song trailed on, Bucky singing the melancholy tune that served as the opening number to the show. He didn’t realize that his mouth had fallen open, or that his eyes were wet, until the music came to a stop and Pepper hit the pause button, looking at him expectantly.

For a moment he was silent.

“Tony?”

A moment more.

“The writer is Bucky?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Pepper nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I wanted the work to speak for itself. I didn’t want you looking at it with a bias. It’s a good show. A great show.” her voice was quiet, timid, nothing like the way she usually did business. She was handling him, but she was worried she’d pushed too far, crossed a line.

“It’s a great show.” Was all he could say, his brain overflowing with memories long buried, pressed deep down into the depths of his mind where he didn’t have to feel the ache of what used to be or could have been - an ache that hearing Bucky’s voice had brought roaring back.

He pressed a hand over his chest.

Pepper looked at him.

“Let’s do the show.” he said quietly, knowing before the sentence was done that he’d likely regret it, either that or it would be the best decision he’d ever made.

“Are you sure?”

Tony cleared his throat and snapped out of it, nodding at her and plastering an easily smile back on his face, “Of course. No one else could do this show justice. It has to be us.”


	2. Act I

Light streamed through a wall of windows, falling in a grid over the blonde wood of the casting room floor, and Bucky was bubbling with nerves and excitement. 

It had been far too long since he’d been here, doing this, putting faces, and voices, and  _ life _ into the work he’d slaved over at his piano for hours on end. And…well...it had been ages since he’d seen Tony, too. 

Maria Hill sat to one side of him, chatting with Pepper on the other side. She’d be their stage manager and as such, would have her hands in every little aspect of the show, including scheduling and running the open casting calls for Nick Carraway and Jay Gatsby himself. 

A chair remained empty on the other side of Pepper, a place card with Tony’s name declaring it his seat at the table. The purpose was to let the auditioners know who they were looking at, but Bucky couldn’t help feeling like the paper was glaring at him, asking him who the hell he thought he was for getting them all into this. It could very well be a disaster. It could be-

The door opened and Bucky’s thoughts stopped short as Tony Stark himself stepped into the room, all careless grace in jeans and a t-shirt with his sport coat and glasses to finish off his signature look. 

Tony breezed in, winking a hello to Maria and kissing Pepper on the cheek as he moved towards his seat, and Bucky only realized that he was holding his breath as his vision began to swim. 

“Bucky.” Tony’s voice was flat - not angry or rude, but without excitement or passion either. 

Bucky sucked in a breath of air, aimed for nonchalant, and nodded once. “Tony.”

Something flashed in Tony’s eyes, but it was gone too fast for Bucky to get a sense of it, and the director was nodding. “Nice show, Bucky - thanks for bringing it to us, I think we can make it incredible.”

Civility. Good. That was a very safe place to start, and Bucky’s relief must have been tangible, because the rest of the room seemed to settle as the first interaction between Tony and Bucky passed with no one having thrown anything.

“Let’s get this show cast then!” Maria had stood from her seat, and was passing stacks of headshots and resumes down the line for each member of the team to have a copy. “We have a long week, Nick Carraway today, and then Gatsby himself tomorrow, call backs and dance calls after, if we need them. Gear up, I’ll get the first lamb.”

Bucky took a deep breath and turned over the first headshot, giving a cursory glance at the young, sweet-faced 20-something in the photo before moving on to his experience. 

He did his best to look only at the paper in his hands and the actor in front of him, he certainly did not let his eyes stray over to where Tony was sitting, and he  _ absolutely _ was not marveling at the way those creative gears were already turning just a sentence into the kid’s monologue. 

It was really going to be a long week.

 

*****

 

“I still think that he’s too young. He won’t be able to carry it.”

“What are you talking about?! He’s perfect! The role  _ needs _ someone with a genuine naivety tha-”

“Naivety, exactly, not  _ youth _ , Nick is moral, and demure, and quiet, but he’s still a  _ grown man _ ! He’s not...” Bucky threw his arms up, as he searched for a comparison, “ _ Bambi! _ ” he gestured to the closed door that their young and hopeful candidates had been using.

Tony’s head was shaking before Bucky even got the word out. “I disagree, he  _ is _ Bambi, he  _ is _ young, and idealistic, and this is the story of him being exposed to the dirty, nasty cruelty and dishonesty, and unfairness of the real world, the big city. Parker is  _ perfect. _ ”

“Alright, so we haven’t reached a consensus yet. Let’s give it a rest, sleep on it, maybe see him for a callback, right, Maria?” Pepper stepped in just as Bucky opened his mouth to retort, and it took all the effort he could muster to keep from shifting his glare from Tony to Pepper. 

“Right. We’ve had a long day. I’ll call Mr. Parker and ask him back, and I’ll see all of you fresh in the morning to cast our Gatsby. Good? Good.” Her tone didn’t leave room for argument, though it did nothing to staunch the animosity rolling off of both Tony and Bucky. 

It certainly hadn’t taken long for them to devolve into disagreement over the very first major decision of the show, and Bucky’s head was throbbing as he gathered his things and saw himself out of the casting room, down the stairs and into the cold evening air. 

He could only hope that the rest of the casting process would be smoother. And if Tony was dead set on casting Peter Parker, he hoped the kid would bring something a little less wide-eyed to the callback to inspire some confidence that he could handle the role.

 

*****

 

The mood was decidedly different as Tony stepped into the casting room for the second day in a row. He clutched his coffee like a lifeline and scanned the room. Pepper was in one corner on the phone, her voice floating through the room in that overly-pleasant tone that said she was working someone over, Maria was nowhere to be seen, probably copying the resumes of the dozens of Gatsbys they would hear today. 

And Bucky. Bucky was already in his seat, hunched over a page of sheet music, messy and smeared with graphite where he’d been tweaking and changing, perfecting his score. Tony couldn’t help staring for a moment, he could almost hear the symphony in Bucky’s head, though the light tapping of his foot was the only outward sign of the masterpiece taking shape inside his mind. It was beautiful, and then the tapping stopped, Bucky’s shoulders tensed, and he looked over at Tony, like he’d felt the stare on his face.

Tony dropped his eyes, sipped his coffee, and walked quickly across the room to Pepper, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek as she hung up the phone and gave him a warning look. 

“Are you feeling more agreeable this morning?” she asked, though she likely knew the answer. 

Tony pulled a face, “I can’t be agreeable when I’m right and he’s wrong.” 

Pepper scoffed. “We can talk more about Carraway later, let’s just hope our Gatsby shows up today so we can get this rolling.” she squeezed his arm before looking to the door as Maria stepped through. “I’ve just confirmed our rehearsal space starting week after next - so the clock is ticking to get this show cast, we have to stay on schedule if we want a good crack at awards season.”

“Great! We have quite the line-up of beefy blondes outside, so let’s get to it.” Maria announced, dropping a stack of resumes at each seat as they all settled in. 

Tony let his eyes stray back to Bucky, blinking when he realized that the composer had abandoned his music and was looking right back, at least for a second, before he hastily returned to his papers, carefully straightening the stack and tucking them into a folder. 

This was going to be an awfully long process if they couldn’t even make eye contact without things getting uncomfortable. Tony sighed quietly and took his seat, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead as Maria called in the first hopeful and the search began. 

 

*****

 

By lunch time, Tony was ready to claw his eyes out. He felt like he’d heard thousands of monologues and song after song from plenty of men who had  _ something _ but not  _ it _ . 

Gatsby was a difficult role, he was a nuanced character that was hard to pin down - it was impressive enough that Bucky had managed to write original dialogue and lyrics without losing the characterization...finding the face and the voice for it was going to be even harder. 

The door opened and Tony looked up, he’d rushed through lunch in liquid form - coffee and a green juice - leaving him alone in the casting room while the rest of the team ate elsewhere. 

Bucky, it seemed, was also more focused on casting than on food, though he froze in the doorway upon seeing Tony there, the hesitation was clear in his face and Tony rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like we can’t be in a room alone together, is it?” his tone was a mix of teasing and exasperation, they were adults, after all. Just because things had ended messy didn’t mean they couldn’t go unsupervised. 

The tension in Bucky’s shoulders eased, “I guess not.” he shuffled into the room, settling into his seat and pulling out the sheet music from before. Long fingers pulled a pencil from where it rested in a sloppy bun, and he began to ease a series of notes in the middle of the page, scowling all the while. 

“Having trouble with the score?” Tony asked, keeping his tone light. Bucky looked up with narrowed eyes and Tony shrugged. “It sounded great on the demos, what’s not sitting right with you?”

His face still looked skeptical, but Bucky stood from his seat and crossed to the piano in the corner. “I’m not happy with “Daisy,” _ ” _ he admitted, settling on the bench and plinking out a few notes as his fingers found their place. He launched into the song, a lighthearted waltz to which Gatsby would recount his time with Daisy in Louisville. 

Tony found himself swaying with the music, closing his eyes as he imagined the scene, Gatsby beginning the story to an enraptured Nick Carraway, twirling the man once as he got caught up in the story, then Daisy, young and vibrant, spinning into his arms to dance as they act out a flashback of their courtship. He was lost in it, seeing it all, save for the missing faces, until Bucky’s fingers faltered to a stop on the keys. Tony’s eyes fluttered open to see Bucky watching him. He raised an eyebrow and stood, moving over to the upright to lean on the lid, “It’s lovely. What’s the problem?”

Bucky frowned, “It’s too... _ happy _ . It needs to end in melancholy, the memory of losing her, of realizing that she didn’t wait for him. I’ve written another verse about her forgetting him and marrying Tom, but...I have to  _ get  _ there, change the melody to sound like...like...love that’s been lost, leached away by circumstance.” He looked up from the piano and met Tony’s gaze, wide blue eyes with the hint of pain that had drawn Tony in from the start. 

If anyone should be able to express the feeling of lost love…it should be him, shouldn’t it? It should be them. Or maybe calling it  _ love _ was going too far. Tony blinked, turning his gaze away and spinning to pace around the room. “What about the opening number?” he asked, looking back to Bucky who just looked confused, “It’s somber and soft, and you’ve used pieces of the melody elsewhere, it’s almost….a uniting theme, the sadness of reality that appears throughout the story.”

He got a thoughtful “hmm.” in reply, and Bucky went back to the keys, testing out a rough transition between the two pieces and humming in a way that told Tony he’d lost him to his writing, at least for a moment. He stood in the middle of the room and listened for a few bars, until Pepper and Maria returned, finishing a conversation about ensemble members and how they’d pay them for rehearsal time. 

Pepper gave Tony a suspicious look, her eyes darting between him and Bucky, but settled down next to him without saying anything. 

“Okay, back to work, I’ve got a good feeling about this next batch!” Maria tapped the top of the piano, shooing Bucky from the bench, before turning to get their next auditionee. 

 

*****

 

The afternoon had dragged on even more than the morning, and Tony could feel that the energy in the room had waned to almost nothing. They hadn’t found their Gatsby yet - there were a few he’d marked with a ‘maybe,’ but his hope had been that someone would stand above all the rest. 

As he peered down at the last headshot of the day -  yet another handsome blonde - he wasn’t so sure it was going to happen. At least, not today. 

“Hi, I’m Steve. Steve Rogers, reading for Jay Gatsby.”

The way he stood was meek and humble, shoulders hunched as if he was trying to take up less space, to draw less attention. Not exactly the most Gatsby-esque display Tony had ever seen. 

“Hi Steve. Whenever you’re ready.” Pepper said kindly, and Tony found himself wondering if maybe he’d been  _ wrong  _ about Parker - maybe  _ this  _ was their Nick Carraway. He had the innocent face, the sweet smile - and a peek at his resume told Tony he was fresh meat, no real broadway experience to speak of quite yet. 

Tony chanced a glance over to Bucky, who was already shooting him a meaningful look that said, for once, they were on the same page. He cleared his throat and looked back to Steve, waiting to see how he’d deliver.

Steve took a breath, closed his eyes, and in that beat of stillness, everything shifted. It was almost like his presence grew to fill the room, he looked back up with a devilish fire in his eyes and a cocksure grin on his face, and started to speak.

“They call me the Devil’s Disciple. I was brought up in the  _ other  _ service; but I knew from the first that the Devil was my natural master, and captain, and friend. I saw that he was in the right, and that the world cringed to his conqueror only through  _ fear… _ ” The modest kid from a moment ago was gone, replaced with a silver-tongued man that had the room enraptured.

Tony couldn’t peel his eyes away, not even to see how the rest of his team was reacting to Steve’s electric change in demeanor and tone. All he could do was stare on, and watch the picture come together in his head. 

Steve - no,  _ Gatsby _ \- in a sharp cream colored suit, hair perfectly slicked into place, glitzy watch and cufflinks catching the light from a dazzling crystal chandelier as he looked over a sea of men and women laughing and dancing to lively jazz in an opalescent ballroom. 

“uh...scene?” Steve’s timid voice brought Tony back to the casting room. The casting room that was filled with stunned silence, causing Steve, who’d returned to his meek and uncomfortable stance, to shuffle under the weight of their scrutiny. 

“Right. Excellent. Thank you, Steve. Do you have sheet music?” Pepper, of course, was the one to find words first, and Steve nodded, retrieving it from his bag near the door. 

Tony looked over to Bucky and watched as pale blue eyes followed Steve’s every move, his mouth slightly agape as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Tony understood the feeling. 

“Bucky will accompany you.” Pepper spoke up again, clearing her throat and enunciating his name enough to pull the composer from his trance. He jumped a little and nodded, flushing slightly as he stood from the casting table and crossed to Steve. 

He took the music and Tony looked on with narrowed eyes as they had a short, whispered exchange, likely about key or tempo, but there was a  _ feeling _ in his gut, hot and churning, at the sight of them, heads bowed together over the page. Jealousy? No, Tony wasn’t the jealous type. He didn’t know what it was, but it simmered there as Bucky took his seat on the piano bench again, and Steve returned to the center of the room. 

Tony trained his eyes on Steve more closely this time, watching as the blonde nodded at Bucky over his shoulder and took a deep breath, starting to sing. There was that shift again, this time from nervous and shy to calm and still, a wonder appearing in his eyes from nowhere as the song began. His voice was deep and clear, drawing in his audience so much that the ripple of Bucky’s fingers on the piano joining in seemed almost like an afterthought. 

It was a voice that didn’t need company, even as it swelled into the triumphant chorus of “This is the Moment” from  _ Jekyll & Hyde _ , filling the space with a tangible warmth and joy, showing them that this Steve Rogers was capable of capturing yet another side of their multifaceted title character. Tony’s mind was drawn back to “Daisy,” the number Bucky had been toying with earlier, and in that moment he knew there wasn’t a better voice for that song. The rare enamored smile on Bucky’s face - even as he kept playing - spoke volumes. They seemed to be in agreement.

At the close of his 32 bars, Tony almost felt the urge to  _ applaud _ , knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was their star, Jay Gatsby in the flesh. 

“That was lovely, thank you, Steve.” Maria, this time, was the one to speak up, with only a hint of surprised awe in her voice - the same feeling that was taking up residence in Tony’s chest. She stood to walk him out the door, letting him know they’d be in touch with his agent if they needed to see more. 

The door closed behind him and the casting team all shared giddy grins in a beat of silence. 

“I think it’s time to contact agents.” Pepper said, beaming, “unless anyone has concerns?” She looked between Tony and Bucky, who both shook their heads. “Great, tomorrow at my office to discuss the rest of the cast, then.” 

Pepper and Maria left the room to turn Steve Rogers’s life upside down and Tony stood, crossing to lean on the piano once more. 

“Wow.” he said softly, still caught up in the inspiration he’d drawn from the actor they just saw.

Bucky smiled up at him, closing the lid of the piano and running fingers through his hair, pulling strands loose from the tangled bun at the nape of his neck. “We found him.” he sighed, his voice edging on dreamy.

Tony moved to sit next to him on the bench, bumping Bucky’s shoulder lightly with his own. “We certainly did. You seemed...enamoured by the guy.”

Bucky looked over, interest in his eyes and a half frown on his face, “that make you jealous?”

When Tony turned his head, they were inches apart and he found wide blue eyes far too close to his. “What if it did?” he asked, despite his mind’s insistence that  _ jealous _ wasn’t the right word for it.

Bucky leaned forward, resting his forehead on Tony’s, and Tony lost his breath, thinking for a moment that Bucky might- 

But he leaned away, shaking his head with a sad smile, “Wouldn’t matter either way, would it?”

And he left, before Tony could answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s monologue from this chapter is Richard’s monologue from George Bernard Shaw’s “The Devil’s Disciple.”


	3. Entr’acte

Steve Rogers was talented in all of the ways that he never really expected. He’d grown up typically enough, the only child of two parents, happy to raise their son in the Middle of Nowhere, USA. In his youth he’d been short, scrawny, even more so than the average boy, and while it hit him a little bit late, puberty hit him  _ hard _ . 

As a teenager, he tried all of the things he’d always been too small or too weak to try, particularly sports, and especially football. Shockingly to everyone who knew him as a kid, he ended up varsity quarterback in his junior year, and for a while he was very serious about it. There was a good year in there when he thought football was his  _ thing _ , his shot. So he committed to it, and hopeful of getting him scouted by colleges, his coach had helped. Steve had even gone so far as taking ballet classes to work on his balance and footwork - in between strength training and two-a-day practices, of course. 

There was a solid span of time when he was a quintessential high school jock, which meant the other jocks were his friends - a group of rowdy guys who just wanted someone to laugh and poke fun at. They didn’t really mean any harm by it - they laughed at themselves and each other more than anything, placing bets on everything and throwing down dares of any ridiculous thing they could think of. 

It was that strain of behavior that had led to Steve’s first audition. His teammates, his friends, fresh off a laughing fit over Steve’s ballet classes, had dared him to put his new moves to use, by auditioning for the spring musical,  _ Grease _ . 

Steve had never been one to back down from a challenge, so with his friends grinning like the idiots they were in the back of the auditorium, he’d read for the part of Kenickie with all the exasperated sarcasm he could muster. 

Of course...none of them had expected him to  _ get  _ the role. Even if they had, they wouldn’t have bet a dime that he would actually  _ take _ it. 

(but this was Steve Rogers, after all, he wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge.)

That had been the start of a brand new world for Steve, and as he navigated readings and rehearsals, stage blocking and set building….he found that he loved it. Every bit of it. (Even the singing, which had been his biggest reservation, until he found that other people were actually  _ impressed _ with his voice.)

The show had been a giant success, and left Steve itching for more. So much so that he auditioned again in the fall, without even needing a dare to do it. He got another part, and when he realized that he’d have to make a choice - practice or rehearsals, state championships or Sunday matinees - he made the unexpected one. 

Well, unexpected to everyone else. His friends, his coach, his dad....essentially everyone but his mother tried to talk Steve out of abandoning football, but he’d been resolute.  _ This _ was his thing, his shot. To Steve, the choice was obvious. 

So he finished out high school in theatre arts rather than football, being welcomed into the pack by a drama club that loved nothing more than excited new members. Then graduation came, and with it, the move to New York. 

 

*****

  
  


It had been more than a week since he’d gotten the call, but Steve was still in utter shock. He was going to be Jay Gatsby. He was going to be on  _ broadway _ . Or...at least he’d finally taken the next step. They’d chosen  _ him _ over everyone to workshop this new show that had the theatre world buzzing. Even from the sidelines, the outside, Steve had known it was going to be grand. 

He’d felt lucky enough to even get an audition and now….now he was walking into a rehearsal space, not unlike those he’d been in time and again for masterclasses and fringe rehearsals, save for the fact that it was filled with the real deal. The room bustled with company members, stretching their legs, warming up their voices, and getting ready for day one. 

Sharon Carter, the acclaimed star of Stark’s last show was shedding her jacket and stretching her arms as she spoke quietly with Brock Rumlow, a famous TV actor who had gotten his start on the stage. They’d be portraying Tom & Daisy Buchanan, and seemed to be getting along swimmingly, if the way Brock rubbed at Sharon’s shoulders was any indication. 

Seated at the piano bench were Bucky Barnes, dark hair falling around his shoulders, and a slight woman with hair to match, both looking intently at the sheet music in front of them, as Bucky played a relaxed jazzy tune and the woman sang along.  Steve’s best guess was that she’d be Jordan Baker. Against one wall, Steve saw Tony Stark himself, chatting animatedly with Maria Hill, who nodded along with a fond exasperation clear on her face, even as her eyes wandered around the room. 

Steve almost felt a little dizzy at the overwhelming nature of it all and was willing himself not to pass out as a voice sounded off in his ear.

“You must be  _ Gatsby! _ ” her voice was high pitched with a gratingly exaggerated Long Island accent, and he turned to see a woman behind him clad in all black dance gear that set a spectacular contrast to her bright red hair. “I’m Natasha,” she continued, voice dropping into a normal register and accent fading to nothing, “Welcome to workshop, newbie.”

Steve nodded, still a little thrown off as she gave him a smirk and a nudge to the shoulder before sauntering off to chat with a lanky blonde guy whose wrinkled shirt and bleary eyes made it look as though he’d just rolled out of bed moments ago. 

The chatter and soft music went on for a few moments, and Steve just stood near the door, looking on, until the door swung open again and Pepper Potts sauntered in, heels clicking against the solid wood floor.

Behind her trailed a baby-faced kid, maybe 20 at the oldest, who flushed as the room quieted down and turned to look at the pair. For a moment Steve was torn between pity for the kid and relief that he wasn’t the only one who had  _ no idea what he was doing _ . 

It was Tony who cut the silence short striding to the center of the room and clearing his throat. 

“Great, now that everyone is here, let’s get this party started. Welcome to the first day of workshop for the Great Gatsby!” he announced, grinning around the room as the company cheered and applauded. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, but this show is going to be a smash if we can manage to get it right, so buckle up. Oh, and a special shout-out to our newcomers, Peter Parker and Steve Rogers, they’ll be our Nick Carraway and Jay Gatsby, respectively. Be gentle with them.” He sent a wink Steve’s way, a tremor of something more than nerves shot through his spine, but Steve shook it off in favor of a meek smile and a tentative wave to the rest of the cast. 

 

*****

 

The sun had long set, and Steve was dripping with sweat as the company spun to the ending pose of the big party number, Gatsby and his mansion revealed and the stage swirling with all the glamor that lived therein. Or...it would be a stage swirling with glamour. Now it was a rehearsal room teeming with sweaty and exhausted actors and actresses, each looking forward to the day off they’d have tomorrow as the workshop took a break for the weekend. 

“Great! That was fantastic!” Tony clapped enthusiastically before turning to Pepper to murmur something in her ear, the entire company releasing their poses and lingering in their spots, each one hoping that they’d finally gotten the number to the point that their director would call it a day and send them home. 

The anticipation in the room was palpable as Tony and Pepper spoke quietly back and forth, the panting of an overworked company and the uncomfortable shuffling of feet filling the room for a few long moments until Tony turned and nodded to Maria. 

A collective sigh of relief, and they were released to their own devices for the entire weekend. Steve had never been so happy at the prospect of his tiny bed in his tiny apartment. He closed his eyes and hummed in happiness at the thought, nearly tired enough to fall asleep on his feet. 

“Steve!” He turned his head to see Hope Van Dyne, the brunette he’d correctly assumed to be Jordan Baker weeks ago, striding towards him with a bag over her shoulder and far too much energy in the smirk on her face. “We’re going out for drinks to celebrate the weekend of freedom, you in?”

He was shaking his head before she finished speaking, already preparing an argument in his head. He’d learned very quickly how persistent Hope could be, particularly when she and Clint - Natasha’s friend and the George to her Myrtle - were after the same thing, which, based on the way Clint was bouncing off the walls, was sure to be the case tonight.

“Actually, I need to hang on to Steve for just a bit, I’ve finally ironed out that transition in ‘Daisy’ and I want you to have it to take home this weekend.” Bucky’s voice interrupted Steve’s train of thought and a mix of frustration, relief, and nervous anticipation ran through Steve. 

Too tired to process all of that, he shrugged to Hope, “Duty calls, maybe next time.”

Hope’s eyes shot between Bucky and Steve for a moment, but she finally shrugged and sauntered off towards the door, linking arms with Clint and Natasha as she went, the three calling variations on “have a good weekend” over their shoulders as they disappeared into the elevators with a bulk of the company. 

“I know you’re tired, I won’t keep you long.” Bucky said quietly, ice blue eyes roaming over Steve’s face before he turned towards the piano. 

“Oh, you actually have changes for me? I thought you were just saving me from drinks.” Steve almost mustered enough energy to make the words playful. 

Bucky smiled, the fondness in his eyes not lost on Steve even in this state, as the composer gestured for Steve to come sit by him on the piano bench. 

Steve obliged, letting himself lean against Bucky’s side a little more than he would usually, barely noticing the way Bucky tensed and then relaxed against him. 

“Okay so here, we’ve been changing keys after the bridge to pull in the overture melody,” Bucky played the previous iteration as Steve watched his hands, “and get the last verse in that minor key, but I want to change keys during the bridge,” he started again, dropping the key earlier making the transition soft and sad rather than the wistful version from before. 

“To capture that emotion.” Steve finished for him, nodding, eyes trailing over the sheet music even as he felt Bucky’s eyes on his face. 

“Right.” The word was a sigh, warm breath fanning over Steve’s neck, still damp with sweat, and they sat for a moment in silence before Bucky cleared his throat, “give it a try?” he asked quietly. 

Steve nearly jumped but he nodded, sitting up a little straighter and waiting for Bucky to play him in.

They practiced the change a few times before Bucky nodded in satisfaction and scooped up the sheet music, pressing it into Steve’s hands. “Practice this weekend, I think you’ll be blocking it on Monday and you won’t want to have to think about key changes while you waltz.”

With that, Bucky was gone, and it was only as Steve turned to see him go that he realized they weren’t alone in the room. Sharon was gathering her things in the corner, having stayed to talk dialogue with Tony, and the director himself was gazing towards the door where Bucky just left, eyes narrowed. 

An odd feeling of butterflies and uncertainty in his stomach, Steve gathered his things to leave, wanting nothing more than to crash and sleep til Sunday. 

He found his way to the elevator, stepping on just before the door closed and finding himself alone with Sharon for the first time.

“Tired?” she asked with a grin, looking wiped out herself. “I’d say you get used to it, but this is my fifth workshop and I could sleep for a month.”

Steve laughed quietly, surprisingly reassured to hear that. “It’ll be worth it, though.” he answered. 

Sharon nodded, “It will. We’re working with greatness, this show is going to change our lives.” Her eyes twinkled with the truth of it, and Steve could see why she’d been the perfect choice to play Daisy, charming and gorgeous and enchanting, if you were into that kind of thing. 

“It certainly is.” came his belated reply, just before the elevator doors opened. 

They both stepped out of the elevator and made their way into the cool outside air. It was only as Steve turned to head in the direction of his Subway stop that Sharon grabbed his wrist. 

“Steve, be careful, okay? With Bucky, I mean. It’s not….you might regret it if you go there.” and with a look like she had a lot more to say, Sharon Carter hugged him and walked off in the other direction, leaving a truly exhausted Steve wondering what the hell she was talking about.

 

*****

 

Monday found Steve still ruminating on what Sharon had said to him. After a bit of sleep he’d re-processed her words and reacted with the proper amount of sputtering, denial, and confusion. 

Be careful with Bucky? Steve wasn’t doing  _ anything _ with Bucky. Nothing but learning a show. A brilliant show that was a product of Bucky’s brilliant mind that came to life on a piano under his brilliant fingers and-

Be careful? He might regret it? What was that even supposed to  _ mean _ ? 

His roommate, Gabriel, had laughed at him and headed off to work, leaving Steve to ruminate on Sharon’s comments all day until his bartending shift that evening. 

Even as he’d polished glasses Saturday night and sat at his keyboard plunking out the new bridge in ‘Daisy’ all Sunday afternoon, Steve wondered what it was that Sharon had been talking about, and maybe more importantly, what she didn’t say at all. There had been more she wanted to tell him, he was sure of it. 

“Steve! Steve! Rogers!!” He snapped out of it to see Maria Hill staring at him with a concerned look on her face. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I’m fine, what’s up?” he brought his thoughts back to the present and cursed himself internally for being unable to keep himself together. 

“The company is working on the Myrtle party number so you’ve got a little time this morning. You can read up on some lines or practice your songs in one of the small rooms down the hall, we’ll be ready for the lunch scenes with Gatsby and Nick in about an hour.” She was looking down at a clipboard, the rehearsal schedule down to the minute with tweaks and edits and notes in the margins. Steve had no idea how she kept it all straight.

“Okay, great. Thanks.” Steve nodded and wandered off down the hall, pulling his script from his bag, planning to test his memory on those lines while he waited, relieved to have at least a number or two in this show that didn’t feature him

He’d been reading through lines for what felt like only five minutes when there was a light knock on the door, followed by Tony Stark. 

“How’s it going in here?”

Steve looked up, mouth going a little dry - he still got nervous around Tony even after weeks of rehearsal and interaction. “Well. I’m feeling solid on this scene, are you ready for me, I thought you’d be spending a little longer on the Myrtle party.” he went to put his script away, but Tony was shaking his head and sitting down across from him.

“No you have time, they’re working through a couple new combinations and I wanted to touch base and see how you’re doing.” Tony was watching him carefully, and Steve swallowed. 

“Did you want to hear the lines, or…?” he faltered at the amused crinkle at Tony’s eyes.

“I meant, how are  _ you _ doing? Feeling alright about everything? I was just talking to Parker and this is taking a toll so I thought I’d check in.” he explained, laughing but with a kind smile. 

“Oh. I’m good. I’m great. Tired, of course, but this has been. I mean, this is just a dream come true, Mr. Stark, I can’t thank you enough.” Steve rambled gratefully, his cheeks pinking a little at his misunderstanding, but warmed by the thought that Tony would check in. 

Tony made a face, “Tony, please, but I’m glad you’re doing well, if that changes, let us know. We want you in tip-top for when we head to previews.” as he spoke Tony reached out like he was going to rest his hand on Steve’s, but stopped himself, dropping his hand to his lap, and Steve was surprised by the small wave of disappointment that crashed over him. 

“I’ll let you know, of course. Tony.” Steve’s words won him a smile and a satisfied nod as Tony got up to leave the room.

“Someone will be in for you in about 30. Oh, and Steve? No need to thank me. You’re a self-made man, Jay Gatsby.” he winked and walked out, leaving Steve in a state of fond confusion that was becoming all too familiar. 

 

*****

 

“Tony I don’t understand why you  _ always _ have to do this!! The style is perfect, the tempo is perfect, the choreography is a knockout, we show to investors  _ tomorrow.  _ There’s no time to change things. This is your beast of a number and you know what, it’s  _ your _ kid in the role that wouldn’t be able to make changes like that on a dime anyway!”

“Dammit, Barnes, don’t bring the kid into this, you know he has what it takes!”

“Maybe to do the show  _ as is _ but not if you’re going to change things hours out!”

“So you want to risk the show entirely because you’re mad that we cast  _ my _ pick for Carraway?!”

“Oh,  _ I’m _ risking the show!? You’re the one risking the show, Tony, second-guessing the work! You’re too close to it, you can tweak later, in  _ previews _ , this is just about getting us there!”

“Gentlemen!” 

Steve and the whole company around him jumped at Pepper’s voice raising over the other two. They’d all been standing, stuck in their places in the rehearsal room while Tony and Bucky stepped out into the hall for a not-so-private chat about the Act I finale. 

Tensions were running high with everyone, as they each contemplated that their performance tomorrow would determine not only their place in the company, but the very fate of the show they’d poured their blood, sweat, and tears into over the past many weeks. 

“I can’t believe this is happening again.” Sharon’s voice was just a whisper, probably intended as a private thought but Steve, standing close by her side, caught her words and looked over.

“Again?”

Sharon rolled her eyes, “They did this right before opening on “ _ Life After You _ .” Practically the same damn argument. I thought my big break was going to be over before it started.” after a beat, she met Steve’s gaze, eyes widening for a moment, “You have nothing to worry about, though. This show is too good to end over a stupid lover’s spat. Pepper will get them straightened out.”

Steve froze in his place, even as Sharon wandered off to talk down Brock, who looked incensed about the whole ordeal. 

Lovers? Were Bucky and Tony…?

They didn’t act like it, certainly….though, perhaps that was just professionalism. Not that they were acting particularly professional today. 

And what about the way they both were with Steve? Bucky always leaning close, intense blue eyes boring into him, and Tony, using any excuse to touch, with his teasing and winking and the words of concern he didn’t share with any other cast members. 

Maybe Steve was reading too far into all of it. Regardless, as Pepper and a chagrined Tony and Bucky returned to the rehearsal room, he put it out of his head.

He had a performance to focus on.

 

*****

 

The company milled around the rehearsal room once more, each exhausted and exhilarated and shaking with nerves, all at the same time. 

They had put on an amazing show today. Better than anything they’d done in rehearsal up until this point. Three rows of empty folding chairs sat on risers along one wall, their first audience, and maybe the most important. 

Investors had turned up in droves to see this workshop and Steve felt sure that the fate of the show was set,  _ Gatsby _ would be going to broadway, the concern of each and every person in the room was whether they’d done well enough today to go along with it. 

Finally, Pepper stepped back into the room from where she and the rest of the creative team had been schmoozing investors, and the quiet chatter of the company faded to silent as they turned to look at her. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you put on a spectacular show today, you should all be very proud.” she beamed out at them and Steve saw Sharon elbow Brock in the side, smiling, as Clint ruffled Peter’s hair and Natasha wrapped her arms around Steve’s own waist from behind. 

This group had become a bit of a family through the hours cooped up together in this room, building this show. 

They embraced and held ranks with each other as Pepper continued, “All there is for you to do now is wait. Go home and take care of yourselves, but stay in town. I have every confidence that this show is going to move forward. We will contact your agents as soon as we have news.” 

The cast answered in nodding heads and soft noises of affirmation as they began to gather their things and depart the workshop space for the last time.

Steve lingered, watching them go, hugging a few of the dancers he’d befriended, returning a high-five from Peter, who looked like his dreams had just come true. Sharon kissed him on the cheek, Clint punched him in the shoulder, Hope invited him (again) out for drinks, and Steve stayed put, gazing at the room. 

The wall of mirrors, the nondescript props, the now-silent piano. This space had become his home, and had given him more than he ever would have imagined upon walking into  _ Gatsby _ auditions so long ago.

“You were amazing tonight.”

Steve turned, surprised to see Bucky standing by the door, the rest of the room deserted. 

“I had amazing material to work with.” he shot back, grinning.

Bucky laughed, “Maybe you did.” A modest shrug.

“Thanks for the opportunity. It’s been...just wonderful, even if you switch to a big name for Gatsby in the real show...this has changed my life.” It would be a lie to say Steve’s eyes stayed dry as he looked back at the room, feeling as though there was a very real chance this was over. 

“Steve.” Bucky walked over to stand just in front of him, concern heavy in those intense eyes. “ _ You _ are our Gatsby. If we’re going to broadway, you’re coming with us.”

Steve met Bucky’s eyes, feeling vulnerable. “You can’t be sure of that.” 

Bucky smiled, bringing a hand up to Steve’s cheek, “It’s the only thing I’m sure of.” 

And then Bucky kissed him, soft and sweet, and so short that later Steve would wonder if it happened at all. 

“I’ll see you at previews, Steve.”


	4. Act II

Tony stood in the back of a Boston theatre feeling quite pleased with himself as the curtains closed to a standing ovation, the first preview of  _ Gatsby _ coming to a close. 

The curtain reopened and the cast returned for their curtain call; Clint as George Wilson, with a broad grin on his face, followed by Natasha, her dress and face still bloody from Myrtle’s death scene. Then Hope as Jordan and Brock as Tom, each smiling confidently out at the crowd as they waved, bowed, and moved aside for the next. They were followed by Sharon and her winning smile, blowing a kiss to the audience as they cheered a little louder for her. Then came Peter Parker, looking just as ecstatically overwhelmed as usual as he took his bow and stepped aside, gesturing backstage with the rest of the cast. Tony felt a warm beat of anticipation, and then Steve stepped back onto the stage, red-faced and smiling bright, like he couldn’t believe all this was for him, but he was happy to see it anyway. 

The crowd went wild for Steve and that was just as satisfying as a successful show, as far as Tony was concerned. His Gatsby took a bow, then the company came together to bow again, and thank their crew, and the curtain closed a final time on their first-ever full performance. 

The applause faded and the audience began to depart, some stopping here and there to clap Tony on the back, or kiss Pepper’s cheek, or tell Bucky they’d have his score stuck in their head for days. 

It felt nice to be back in this position with them. Sitting in the back row, watching their hard work dance across the stage and seeing the audience react to it. 

Tony had a page full of notes he’d taken during the show, moments that didn’t get the right reaction, lines that didn’t feel right, cues that were missed, tweaks to be made. He looked down at it as the theatre emptied, mind already on tomorrow where he’d sit down with everyone and go through them. 

“Let them celebrate tonight, Tony. Notes in the morning.” It was Bucky. Tony looked up to see that he had a cautious smile on his face, hesitantly teasing. 

Things had been a little tense in getting from workshop to this point, their argument about the Act I finale continuing on as they worked to find a middle ground, and other little disagreements popping up here and there. 

It seemed to Tony that they were less about the two actually having different opinions, and more about the fact that they were tip-toeing around each other - neither wanting to cause another blow up.

Tony bit back the part of him that wanted to snap that he’d never step on their show high like that. Instead, he held his hands up in mock surrender, “No constructive criticism until tomorrow.” he agreed with a small smile. 

Bucky looked a little surprised and nodded, heading off towards the stage to speak with the orchestra conductor. 

Tony turned to see Pepper looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he scowled, gathering his notebook and sticking the pen behind his ear. 

Pepper shrugged, “Just not used to you playing so nice, that’s all.”

“I’ve been on my best behavior, Pep. don’t seem so surprised.” Tony wandered off in the direction of backstage, not waiting for any response from his long time partner and friend. He wasn’t in the mood for judgement right now. 

Maybe working with Bucky wasn’t  _ easy _ , but he was doing just fine. They’d only had two or three big arguments, and Tony had managed not to fuck him in a dressing room, so he was pretty satisfied with the way things had played out.

Well….maybe  _ satisfied _ wasn’t the exact right word. 

The backstage area was a mess of cast and crew and props and costumes, Tony passed by MJ and Natasha, the two of them inspecting the blood dispersal device that ran the front of Myrtle’s death scene dress, MJ frowning the way she did when she was about to get working.

“Tomorrow, ladies, we can make fixes tomorrow. Tonight go celebrate.” Tony barked it like an order, but winked at them as he passed. Natasha shrugged and MJ glared, but set the piece down to go inspect something else. She was very talented with props, especially the more technically elaborate ones, and they’d been lucky to get her for this show...even if it meant that they often couldn’t find their Nick Carraway, with Peter constantly off getting some perfectly functional prop looked at by the young propmaster, who saw straight through his ruse but went along with it anyway. 

Tony just hoped they’d keep it in their pants until after the broadway open. 

The dressing rooms were bustling, a row of counters where the chorus members packed away their makeup overrun with flowers and excited, chattering performers. 

Another hallway back were the principals’ dressing rooms, each with a star and their name on the door, and Tony knew exactly where he was headed, stopping in front of the cracked door reading “Steve Rogers” in big bold letters, with “Jay Gatsby” smaller, below. 

He rapped his knuckles on the door a couple times before pushing it a little further open. 

Steve had changed out of his costume, likely immediately after curtain call so the blood could be soaked out before tomorrow night’s show. He sat in the chair at his vanity, barefoot and clad in jeans and a flannel shirt, wiping stage makeup from his face. He looked up at Tony in the mirror and smiled. “So?”

Tony smiled back. “Absolutely incredible. The audience loved you, granted, they were mainly the cast and crew’s families, but there was a critic or two in the crowd. I think we’ll see great headlines first thing in the morning.”

A look of panic crossed Steve’s face, “Reviews, already? After just one show?”

Tony laughed, moving to lean against the vanity so he could look at Steve directly, handing him a new cotton pad to saturate and wipe at the thick stage foundation. “Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about. You did great work out there tonight. It was...inspiring.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks.” He bit his lip, setting the cotton pad aside and looked up at Tony, bare face and soft beat-up clothes a contrast to his still gelled hair. “It’s your world, I’m just acting in it.” he added with a grin.

Tony could have grabbed him right there, forcing his fingers through those slicked back strands to pull him into a kiss, just to taste those lips rubbed red from the makeup remover and the pull of his teeth.

Instead he cleared his throat, “are you, uh, going anywhere tonight, Steve? I mean, do you want to grab a bite with me, or a drink?” Or a nightcap? It was probably a dumb and risky move to ask out one of his actors during previews, but the combination of all this time working so closely with Steve, his determination, his innocent positive attitude, the sweet give and take with Bucky as the two worked through the music together, the performance he’d given tonight, and the way he looked right now? It was almost too much to bear. 

“Oh!” Steve looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so as his cheeks flushed and he bit that damn lip again, looking down at his lap. “I’m actually getting drinks with the cast, to celebrate the first show.” he looked a little guilty as he tried, fruitlessly, to run his hands through his hair, “uh, raincheck, though?” 

Tony nodded, “Of course, go out and have a good time, you deserve it.” He rested a hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed, sliding up to cup his neck for a moment, “another time.” He smiled brightly to hide the disappointment and stood from Steve’s vanity, hand dropping to his side as he headed out the door without another word. 

  
  


*****

 

The next morning found Steve on the apron of the stage with only the  _ slightest _ headache. He might have, potentially, just a little bit, overdone it on drinks the night before. And it may or may not have been because he wanted to forget how confused he was about Tony’ s dinner invitation. He just couldn’t get a good read on the guy. There was a way that he looked at Steve that wasn’t like how he treated his other actors, and there was a way his proximity made Steve feel….he’d thought it would wear off after the novelty of being around a broadway great dissolved, but it didn’t. The butterflies stayed around. 

“First reviews are in, hot off the presses!” Natasha danced down the aisle, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as they crowded around her in front of the stage. She flipped the paper open to the Arts & Leisure section and started reading, “ _ Broadway favorites Stark, Barnes, and Potts are set to wow yet again with the opalescent  _ Gatsby _ featuring a stellar cast of veterans and newcomers, each bringing the house down in their own right. Most notably is the return of Sharon Carter to the stage as Daisy Buchanan, her brilliance only made brighter by the electric chemistry she shares with one Steve Rogers, who is making his debut in the show’s titular role and causing us to wonder, where has he been all our lives? _ ”

She paused and the room cheered as Steve flushed red from his chest to his ears, though he couldn’t keep the proud smile off his face, already planning to get his hands on his own copy to save. 

Natasha read through the rest of the review, pausing for cheers each time anyone was mentioned by name. The critic praised the show, the performance, the music, and harped for a while on the timing and a few technical kinks they’d noticed before declaring the show ‘the one to watch’ this awards season.

She’d finished and was passing out copies of the paper to the cast when Bucky hopped up onto the stage next to Steve, holding out a copy of the paper with a soft smile. “I figured you’d want one of these. They loved you.”

Steve smiled modestly, “Thanks. I’ll have to send a copy to my mom, first review and all.”

Bucky bumped his shoulder, “There will be more, and better. She might need to start a new scrapbook for all the press you’re going to get over this show. You’ll be a sensation Steve, it’s already starting.” 

They’d spoken like this, briefly, in between rehearsals, always in a crowd. Bucky, it seemed, while happy to continue to be encouraging and supportive, was determined not to be alone with him after that kiss. It hadn’t happened again, and neither of them brought it up, though Steve wanted to. He just kept hearing Sharon telling him to be careful in the back of his head. Not that it helped to keep Bucky out of his mind, or the idea of kissing him, really kissing him, so he’d remember the feeling of it. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something, finally bring it up, but he stopped short as he realized that Bucky was gazing out towards the back of the seats, a dreamy look on his face, pale eyes soft and warm.

Turning to follow his gaze, Steve saw Tony, surveying the theatre like he was taking in his kingdom. Orange sunglasses still over his eyes, features lit by the soft glow of the theatre’s filigree wall sconces, the rich red of the walls and soft velvet seats a royal backdrop as he strode forward, clad in his traditional blazer and t-shirt, with a cup of coffee clutched in one hand, the only thing keeping him awake at this hour of morning. 

[](https://ibb.co/CbgZrjT)

“You two are both more obvious than Parker with MJ.” 

Steve’s attention snapped away from Tony to Natasha, who had reached them with her stack of newspapers and was holding a couple out to Steve. He took them and added them to the copy Bucky brought him, shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He quipped back, almost reaching the level of nonchalance he’d been going for, and only missing as he saw the flush on Bucky’s cheeks, feeling a little disheartened by it. 

Sharon had called them lovers, hadn’t she? Steve didn’t know just what was going on with Bucky and Tony. They didn’t seem like lovers to him, ex-lovers, if anything, based on the way they avoided each other. Anyway, If that was the case why would they both have been so blatant towards Steve?

Unless...it was just a part of some game. 

He was saved from ruminating on that any longer by Tony speaking up. “Okay, okay, I know everyone is in good spirits after last night’s show and this morning’s reviews, so you’ll have plenty of energy for a full run-through. Let’s get started, we’ve got pacing and technical issues iron out!”

  
  


*****

 

Previews continued on without much change. They rehearsed by day and performed at night, the reviews came in and the cast would reflect on them, Tony would tweak, he and Bucky would argue, and Steve would watch them. 

They never touched each other, not in front of the company, at least. Never a hand shake, a clap on the shoulder, a bump of elbows...not the way they both touched Steve. But they stared. Bucky would watch Tony giving Peter a tip on an inflection, or guiding Sharon through a changed bit or choreography, and when Tony looked back to the team, Bucky’s gaze would fall to his paper, the piano keys, his twiddling thumbs, as though he was never looking. 

Tony did the same, he’d be carefully watching a number come together and then his eyes would stray over to Bucky at the piano, studying his profile, watching his hands dance across the keys, and then the music would stop and Tony would remember himself, dragging his attention back to his actors and behaving for all he was worth as though he’d been paying attention the whole time.

It was an interesting dance to witness, and the more he saw, the more Steve became convinced that the interactions  _ he’d _ had with each of them weren’t what he’d understood them to be at all.

“You see it now, don’t you.” Sharon settled into a soft velvet seat beside Steve, and he looked over at her, quirking an eyebrow. “Bucky and Tony.” She continued, rolling her eyes. 

“They’re not exactly subtle, but at least they’re keeping it in their pants this time.”

Steve jumped a little, having not even noticed that Natasha, and beside her, Clint, had settled into the row of seats behind them.

The creative team stood circled up on the stage while the cast took a 10-minute break between scenes, and Steve had been watching the way that Bucky and Tony carefully maintained distance, like magnets repelling a matching pole. 

“Okay, I’m going to need someone to explain to me what it is that you all know and I don’t.” 

Clint laughed, and Natasha smirked, but Sharon took pity on him, lowering her voice and leaning in so only the four of them could hear. 

“The last show they did together was when Tony and Bucky met, all three of us were in the cast,” she gestured to Clint and Natasha, who nodded, “they got along really well then. Like, weirdly well. We all thought it was going to be the start of a really huge partnership, everyone else did too.”

“Yeah, and then they started fucking.” 

“Clint!” Natasha admonished, though her eyes were amused. 

“Well that’s what happened.” he shrugged. 

Sharon rolled her eyes and kept talking, “After their relationship started it was like they couldn’t be anything else anymore, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other or their minds on the show, there were some...creative troubles, and things started to get rocky. They fought...like the day of our workshop show, pretty much every rehearsal. It was a miracle we ever made it to opening.”

“They had a huge falling out right before the Tony Awards that year,” Natasha cut in, “but Pepper somehow kept it out of the press, she’d managed to keep the whole relationship secret, after all, and no one ever knew anything had happened. That’s why everyone was so confused when they didn’t work together again after that.”

“And why we were all like ‘What the fuck?’ when our agents called us about this show.” Clint added, helpfully.

“All things considered they’ve both been very civil. Though their fixation on you is very interesting.” Natasha said thoughtfully. “I’d steer clear of it though. Even if it wasn’t a matter of getting between those two basket cases, show flings are never a good idea.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, taking in everything they’d just said, and somehow only settling on “But Sharon and Brock...you guys are dating now, aren’t you?”

Sharon blushed a little and shrugged. “That’s different. We actually  _ talk  _ to each other like in a real relationship, and we have a public life outside of this show. It’s not all sex.”

Clint laughed, “Right, not  _ all _ sex.” 

Natasha punched him in the arm and they continued to tease Sharon about Brock, but Steve tuned it out, contemplating this new information as he watched Bucky study the side of Tony’s face once again. 

  
  


*****

 

It was late on Friday evening, after the next to last show in their Boston run, and Steve sat at his vanity, tidying up the space and thinking about the fact that he’d soon be packing it all up and ideally, moving into a dressing room in a theatre in New York. 

He’d just showered, hair still damp and refreshingly free of the hair gel that was officially the worst part of his Gatsby costume. He picked at a stray thread on his sweater and looked around the little room that had become a bit of a haven to him over the past few weeks. It wasn’t much, a small bathroom, a brightly lit mirror, an old but comfortable sofa against one wall, and by the other, a rack of suits; his costumes for each scene and extras. Someone from wardrobe would be by in a while to get them, have them cleaned up before tomorrow evening’s show so they could do it all over again - in this space just one last time. 

A quiet knock at the door signaled a visitor and Steve turned in his chair, “It’s open.”

The door opened and Bucky stepped through, leaving the door cracked open and smiling at him, holding out a single daisy. “You were stunning tonight, Steve.” 

“Thank you.” Steve smiled, but it didn’t totally reach his eyes as he narrowed them at the flower. That was a  _ gesture _ if Steve had ever seen one, and a few weeks ago he would have been sure what it meant, but now he wondered. 

When Steve didn’t take the flower, Bucky lowered his arm and gazed at him with concern, “Is everything alright?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, to ask if everything  _ was _ alright, to ask what was going on, and what Bucky wanted from him, but another knock cut him short. 

“Hey Steve I was hoping we could finally get that dinner tonight if you’re not-” Tony came through the cracked door already talking and stopped short at the sight of Steve and Bucky and that one yellow daisy. 

Tony and Bucky made eye contact for a long moment, each looking as though they’d rather be anywhere else but here. 

“Nevermind, I’ll just go-”

“No, I think you need to stay here.” Steve finally spoke up, feeling a fed up with all of the weirdness and signals he was getting from both of them. “I think the two of you need to sit in here and talk it out and I don’t need to have any part of that.”

Bucky frowned, “Steve what are you tal-”

“Look, I like you, both of you, and I’m so grateful for what you’ve done for me. I’m new to all of this stuff and you’ve been so very patient and helpful, but  _ this _ ,” he gestured between them, “is not a part of that. I’m not some stupid new kid with emotions that you can both play with while you dance around each other. So just please stop. Stop leading me on like something is going to happen here. Stop using me to forget each other or to lash out at each other, or whatever the hell this is.” his voice was gradually rising as his frustration and confusion found their way out, “You two clearly have unfinished business, or some feelings you can’t come to terms with, and I respect that you’ve got some  _ shit _ to work out, but leave me out of it. I really felt like I could trust you, both of you, but if you’re just dragging me into some facade to help you avoid the feelings you can’t deal with, I’ve had enough of that and you deserve each other.”

As he spoke, Steve gathered up his things, and finished out his big speech by walking out the door, closing them both inside, and only letting his face fall and his hands shake when he was already halfway down the hallway wondering what the hell he’d just done.

  
  


*****

 

Bucky stared at the door of Steve’s dressing room, silence ringing in the wake of it slamming shut, closing him into this space with Tony. They’d made a bit of a point of not being alone together. 

Actually, they’d had an unspoken agreement going to keep their distance altogether, for the sake of this show that they were building. It was obvious that when they started thinking with their dicks they had trouble getting along as professionals, and since neither of them were too good at discussing their feelings, avoiding the problem had seemed like a good plan.

“Wow.” It was Tony who spoke first, still looking gazing at the spot where Steve had just stood. “That was unexpected.”

Bucky looked at him, dressed in a real suit this time, not just the jacket over a tshirt and realized what Tony had been coming in here for. “You were going to ask Steve out on a date?” he asked incredulously, wondering if Tony Stark had ever been out on a  _ date _ before. 

Tony shuffled, looking down at his feet and scratching the back of his neck, “I uh, yeah? Yeah. I already did, actually, he was busy the first time. Wait, are you...jealous?” 

“What? I uh…” Bucky hesitated for a moment, then sighed, thinking about what Steve had said and shrugged. “I don’t know? Maybe?” Was he upset that Tony wanted to take Steve out? And was that because he wanted to be the one to take Steve out? Or was it because he wanted to be the one Tony was taking out? Maybe he didn’t have the answers.

“Of me, or of him?”

Bucky laughed, “Ain’t that the million dollar question.” He looked down at the flower in his hand, tossing it onto the vanity and looking back up at Tony. “Are you jealous?” He didn’t expect an answer, and definitely not the one he got.

“Yes.” Tony just looked at him, face nearly blank.

“Of me or of him?” 

Bucky got a pained smile for his teasing question, a beat of silence, then a quiet “both? Steve is...he’s just incredible but you...well you and I have...well...” Tony trailed off, looking at his shoes. 

At that admission something warm settled in Bucky’s chest, something he didn’t quite understand yet, but he knew that it was the closest he was going to get today to Tony admitting that he still wanted him. It was enough for now. 

“Do you still want to get dinner, or was that an exclusive offer for Steve?” 

Tony looked at him in surprise, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, nodding tentatively. “Sure, dinner would be, uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

“Good, because I might have an...idea.”


	5. Curtain Call

Performing  _ Gatsby  _ in Boston had been the biggest thrill of Steve’s life, but as the date of the real opening in New York drew closer, every part of him was thrumming with anticipation. He could hardly sit still in between numbers and scenes, and he had a feeling that if it wasn’t for the fact that he was constantly pushing himself so hard in tech rehearsals, he wouldn’t even be able get to sleep at night. 

Thankfully he was too busy and too exhausted to keep himself awake with nerves, even if they did plague him all throughout the daytime. In addition to rehearsing and making last minute changes, and his  _ parents _ showing up in New York to see the show, Steve was also doing press for the show, little things here and there that Pepper had set up, interviews and appearances, with the promise that talk shows and other TV press would come along after they opened and the reviews were just as good as Boston. 

It was exciting, it was exhilarating, and it was all almost enough to distract him from the vague emptiness at the loss of the growing sense of possibility that had accompanied his interactions with both Bucky and Tony throughout the rest of his time with  _ Gatsby _ . 

He knew he’d done it to himself, and he told himself that this was better, since obviously he’d been right about everything, and Steve was just some piece in the middle of the odd game board of their relationship. He knew that he was right, because when everyone had come back together in New York to start rehearsing again, their entire dynamic had changed.

Bucky would put a hand on Tony’s waist as they stood close together, or Tony would stand behind Bucky at the piano, and rest his hands on Bucky’s shoulders while he played, leaning contentedly back against Tony as he did. They’d sit in the back row of the theatre, heads bowed together as they exchanged private words and secret smiles, and as much as it all  _ hurt _ to see - Steve really was happy for them. Happy because he’d come to care about them both, and they both seemed to be so much better off. 

The only real issue Steve had with it was that things hadn’t changed in the way they treated him. Tony still showered him in praise and checked in on him constantly, touching his shoulder when they talked, and leaving him with sassy little comments and teasing winks. And Bucky was as intense as ever. He would pull Steve down to the piano bench to sit close by his side, always watching him with those blue eyes, and while he hadn’t brought him any more flowers, he still specifically sought Steve out to praise his performance after every show and run-through. 

Steve didn’t know if it was because they were trying to make it seem like they’d treat a friend that way even when they couldn’t possibly be interested in him romantically, but what he did know was that it  _ hurt. _ It hurt to still have feelings for them, for both of them, and to not only see them happy together, but to have them touch him and praise him, and then walk away to be with someone else. And maybe it wasn’t fair for him to be so hung up on not one, but two men who weren’t interested and weren’t on the market, but they didn’t exactly make it easy for him to just move on.

 

*****

 

Bucky sat in the center of the theatre’s empty house, watching as the cast went through their very last full dress rehearsal before the big open, tomorrow night. Tickets for the first week were sold out, their posters (a rather lovely photo of Steve all done up as Gatsby) adorned the outside of the theatre as well as a billboard in Times Square, the playbills were printed, and the company was a well oiled machine. They knew this show back and front, and everyone on the team was satisfied that any of the pacing and technical issues from their Boston run had been resolved. It was almost time, and God, it had been  _ so long _ since everything in Bucky’s life had been going so well. 

He looked to the stage where Tony leaned against the front edge, chatting away with James Rhodes, the technical director, about timing for intermission one last time. They were running it right now and Maria stood off to the side, timing it with a grin on her face that told Bucky things were going right on schedule. 

Yeah, everything was on schedule, everything was going to plan. After their sort of forced reunion in Boston, Bucky and Tony had decided to give themselves another shot, a try at something real that wasn’t just a stress release and a flurry of creative passion. They’d started with dinner that night, treating it like a first date, though it was incredible how easily they fell into that.

They’d been keeping things up for a few weeks now, and each time they ran into a hiccup with the show, or a difference of opinion, they’d been reminded of Steve yelling at them to sort out their shit, and somehow, that had helped them both keep their head - they’d consciously made the decision to compromise where they could, and if they needed to argue about something they did, but they made the line between personal and professional clear this time. 

It was a whole new experience. Bucky was loving it, even if it didn’t feel quite complete, not yet.

“Have you drugged him or something?”

Bucky looked up to see Pepper walking into his row of seats and settling down into the one next to him. “Not exactly.” he answered, shrugging. 

“I just never expected to see Tony so ready to  _ compromise _ . Though I imagine the other change in your...relationship, is the reason for that, am I right.” She looked exasperated, but fond.

“Yeah, it’s something more along those lines. We’re just trying to make things different this time.”

“So there is a ‘We’ in there. And is that...long term? Is that going to blow up in all of our faces? Should I be afraid to book you for press at the same time?”

Bucky laughed, “You know, I can’t say anything for certain, but I’ve got a good feeling about this. I think at the very least, we’ll be able to behave ourselves for a few interviews together. We’re becoming very good at putting on a good face for the show.”

Pepper smiled softly, though her eyes were still uncertain. “I think you can be good for each other. I have to ask, though...what about Steve?”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, eyes twinking, “What about Steve?” he asked, nonchalantly.

Pepper rolled her eyes, “You were both all over him in Boston, and before that, really. I just haven’t been around rehearsals very much lately to see how he’s taking the two of you together...is he okay?”

Standing from his seat, Bucky stepped over Pepper to head towards the aisle, tossing a mischievous grin over his shoulder, “Steve is going to be just fine.”

The look on her face was one of concern and confusion, but Bucky didn’t add anything, instead walking up to join Tony where he’d parked himself in the front row. 

Bucky dropped a hand to his thigh and leaned into his side. “It’s going well.”

Tony hummed his agreement, covering Bucky’s hand with his own, “Very well. I think they’re ready.”

Bucky smiled, “And it’s almost time.”

“Almost.”

 

*****

 

The bright lights beat down on an exhausted company, each of them grinning like mad even as they panted from the exertion. They all linked hands and took one last bow, waving and blowing kisses to the audience, an exuberant crowd that whooped and cheered, each of them on their feet even as the curtain slid closed. They’d done it.  _ Gatsby _ was officially open on broadway. 

With one show under their belt, everyone was giddy with excitement and satisfaction. Natasha ran up and threw her arms around him, and Steve picked her up at twirled her for a moment before setting her back down, both of them laughing.

“Welcome to super-stardom newbie, hope it treats you well.” She called into his ear to be heard over the cacophony of backstage. Steve laughed and shook his head, shoving her gently at the shoulder.

With another grin, she danced away, finding Clint and leaping onto his back. Steve marveled at the way he caught her without missing a beat, and the two jumped around joyfully amongst a group of celebrating dancers. Brock twirled Sharon around and the two of them swayed in the middle of the stage, beaming happily at one another. 

A chorus of cat calls drew Steve’s attention the other direction, where MJ had walked right up and planted a kiss on a shell-shocked looking Peter. 

They were ridiculous, all of them, and near drunk with excitement and exhaustion, and they were Steve’s family. His home away from home.

Sure, his parents had been in the audience tonight, and he’d meet them in the lobby shortly, but in this moment, he felt like he was among  _ his _ people.

Or, most of them, at least. Neither Tony nor Bucky were anywhere to be found. Steve assumed they were out in the audience meeting critics, talking to press, promoting the show and showing off after what was officially a hugely successful collaboration between the two of them.

As the activity on the stage settled, Steve said a few farewells and made his way towards his dressing room, ready to shower this gel out of his hair and go meet his parents for a late dinner. 

He loosened his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging the suit jacket off as he walked in the door, and stopping short as he saw Tony and Bucky both standing there, Bucky’s arms wrapped around Tony’s waist as the director leaned back into his chest. 

“Um, Hi.” Steve said, a little confused, and unable to keep from thinking about the last time the three of them had found themselves all together in his dressing room. 

“Hi Steve.” Bucky said, smiling fondly at him. “You were amazing.”

“Exquisite.”

“Astounding.”

“Extraordinary.”

Steve flushed against his own will and gestured for them to stop, feeling very self-conscious as they looked at him, almost hungrily. “Please, it was just like every night.” he laughed breathlessly. 

“Nonsense. That was your broadway debut Steve, and it was  _ incredible _ . You were….everything. Everything we could have ever hoped for when we set out on this show.” Tony pushed away from Bucky and moved towards him. 

“Everything that drew me to bring this story to the stage in the first place. Bold and bright, and heartbreaking, and so very  _ real. _ ” Bucky added, following Tony’s lead and meeting Steve in the middle of the room. 

Steve looked at them all nervous confusion and a betraying desire, not only for  _ them _ but for what they had, what they shared with one another. “Sh-shouldn’t you be out talking to the press...or something?”

Bucky smiled, “That can wait. We want to be here, with you. You’re important to us Steve, and after what you said….you helped us figure out a few things, we-”

“That’s great.” Steve cut him off, taking a step back until his back his the dressing room door. “It really is, and I’m so happy for you, but it’s still a little...fresh, for me, and I can ignore the way I’m feeling but not with you just  _ right there _ .”

Tony laughed softly and Steve felt a stab of hurt at that, being ridiculed for the feelings that  _ they _ had made him feel, and on what was supposed to be one of the best days of his life!

“Don’t ignore the way you feel, Steve.” and then Tony was touching his cheek, tilting his head so their eyes could meet, and there was a soft seriousness in Tony’s brown eyes. 

Another hand gripped his hip and Steve looked down to see that it was Bucky, reaching out to him around Tony, and pressing the three of them close together. 

“What...what the hell is going on.” Steve aimed for demanding but it came as more of a whimper as his mouth dried and his heart started racing, purely from the proximity of the two men who had him practically pinned against his dressing room door. 

Bucky sighed fondly and Steve found his gaze, “We want you, Steve. Both of us. Together.”

Steve did whimper at that, and he wasn’t proud of it, but the way it made Tony and Bucky smile almost made up for that. 

“Is that okay?” Tony asked, thumb gently stroking Steve’s cheek and distracting him from his own thoughts. 

“We’re gonna...have to talk about it.” Steve managed, and the other two both nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Yes.”

Bucky smiled, looking proud of himself, and Tony gave Steve a wicked smirk before pulling him forward to kiss him, lips parting immediately and tongue sliding along the seam of Steve’s lips. Steve sighed and opened his mouth, going lax under the hands that were now roaming over his body. Steve reached out to grip the back of Tony’s head with one hand as the other fisted in the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, anchoring himself against both of them.

Yeah, this could be okay. 

  
  


*****

 

**Epilogue**   
  


The night had gone just as Tony had expected. He’d known from the moment he read the show that with the right director, the right cast, the right Gatsby, they’d sweep the Tony Awards, and they had. 

He flipped the lights on in his penthouse, carefully setting his award on the counter, the silvery medallion shining up at him from it’s black pedestal, best direction of a musical, not his first award in the category, but definitely his favorite. 

A moment later, Bucky followed suit, setting his two awards, for best original score and best book in a row next to Tony’s, followed by Steve, who cradled the his award in his arms, still looking down at it in awe. Best performance by a leading actor, the highest honor he could have ever hoped to achieve, and he’d done it so young, so soon. 

Steve set his award next to Bucky’s, the four of them looking sleek and regal against the marble countertop.

“Nine Tony Awards.” Bucky chuckled softly. “I never would have thought that all of this could come from a whim to re-read my favorite book.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and Tony smiled over at them, shrugging, “I knew. I knew from the moment I read your script. It was always going to be incredible.”

He moved over to join them and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, running a hand over Steve’s side, “Besides, they all have my name on them anyway, regardless who they’re handed to,” he added flippantly.

Steve snorted and Bucky laughed, looping his arms around Tony’s waist, “You’re ridiculous.”

“These awards are wonderful but I think I got a much better prize out of this show.” Steve teased, eyes alight with joy. 

“How did I end up with two of the cheesiest men in all of New York?” Bucky groaned.

Tony laughed, tugging them both towards the bedroom, “We were buy one get one free.”

“Yeah, and you love us anyway.” Steve agreed, following Tony’s lead.

Bucky sighed happily as he was dragged to Tony’s bed, “I absolutely do.”


End file.
